


Lots of one-shots... eventually.

by TheQuietMedic



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), More will be added with more stories appearing.
Genre: Comfort, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Multi, One Shot, lots of different themes, one shots, will be updated with more one shots once i get motivation to do them.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 12:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQuietMedic/pseuds/TheQuietMedic
Summary: A grouping of any one shots i happen to write. I've come to terms with the fact i can't write for shit and will never do a full story since i lose motivation too fast so here's a bunch of smaller shitwalls i made/will make.





	Lots of one-shots... eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> You can suggest things if you want, just remember it's not certain i'll even do them so don't get your hopes too high.

[SYSTEM REBOOT : CORE FUNCTIONS OPERATIONAL.]  
[AUDIO : OPERATIONAL.]  
[OPTICS : OPERATIONAL.]  
[RUN DIAGNOSTIC….. ERROR. UNABLE TO COMPLETE SCAN, SEVERAL SYSTEMS OFFLINE, SEVERAL SYSTEMS CORRUPT.]

“Android number 2009, can you hear me?”  
Your body shudders and whirrs like a messy steam engine, gasping up breaths at the sudden reactivation. Therium stains your uniform; a messy tear across your side and a hole through your left leg. Your eyes dart wildly, a sense of panic enveloping your system and clouding your current objective.

“I need you to calm down- you’re losing Therium very fast. My name is Connor…”  
A hand gently touches your shoulder, the voice was calm but full of unexpected amounts of empathy, he’s… an android? “...I managed to reactivate you, but I cannot seem to scan your system - Are you alright?”

You try to speak. Opening and closing your mouth awkwardly as no sound came out, only the garbled mess of a dysfunctional vocal disk. His hand quickly shifted to your neck, cautiously pressing two fingers against your throat while you continued to struggle to talk.  
“A melted Vocal processor…” He concluded quietly to himself before moving away again. “Don’t try to speak, you might cause more injury.”

You sat with your back against the wall, tears beginning to well in your optics, getting a good look at your ‘rescuer.’  
An RK800, an older prototype than you, created to assist with police investigations on android cases. That fact alone makes you… nervous. Is that what it’s called? Nervousness? It’s a bit like a warm feeling in your chest, like your thermal regular isn’t working properly, but with more discomfort. 

“I need to know what happened to you, ok?” You nod slowly, unable to verbally confirm that you understand. The virtual skin on Connor’s hand and up his arm retreated as he took your wrist and held it tightly - barely milliseconds passed but it felt like forever - the LED on his temple blinked yellow before turning a furious red. Clearly shaken, he let go of you in a hurry, his own breaths had become just as sporadic as your own.

“Find out anything?” a grizzled older man walked into the room with a frown, but the confident strides didn’t last once he spotted Connor’s clear state of mild panic he hurriedly waddled himself over to the two of you. Crouching down next to Connor with his hand firmly rubbing the androids back. “Hey, hey, easy there Connor.”

His eyes almost looked glazed for a while until; the older gentleman had come over and swiftly washed away the conflict in his head. “This android needs to be repaired…” an air of determination lit up once he looked back at you- your confused and scrambled state leaving a confused and scared look upon your face.   
_________________________________________________________________________

You sat quietly in the containment cell, legs dangled off of the edge of the ‘seat’ in your room which was only a slab of metal sticking out from the wall.  
You were in good shape considering the accident though your melted vocal processor meant it couldn't be removed without serious consequences. It was strange, you wished to say thank you every time someone did something for you but nothing came out of your mouth. It’s like you were talking without a voice, you’d been put on mute, someone had turned down your volume. An interesting experience at first - but now that you can fully understand that it’s a permanent issue something sinks to the pit of your core.

Connor’s older associate, Hank, he’s nice. Grumpy and sarcastic. But nice. Though you get the idea he might not like you for what happened when Connor probed your memory… it will probably pass.

“Are you listening?”

You jump, eyes adjusting as you’re snapped out of the wandering thoughts, you had not seen Connor enter the room. Instinctively you say sorry, only nothing comes out and you’re left feeling saddened again.  
“This will take time to get used to- I’m sure you will do just fine.”  
The concern in his voice, the look in his eyes, it's doing something to your newly discovered emotions that you just don’t understand yet. The warmth from before is back, this time more of a gentle glow than a raging burn. You give him a smile, earning one back, putting your hand on his shoulder like he had done to you before.

“You took some serious and unusually accurate damage during the ‘accident’. We believe it could have been an attempted murder. I couldn’t get anything useful to the investigation out of your saved data. It will be painful but I need you to think about what happened, do you remember anything that could give us a lead?”

You shake your head immediately. It’s not that you don’t know… it’s just that you don’t want to think about it. Just because you can’t feel physical pain doesn’t mean emotional pain is not there. That emotion you know very well. Fear. Fear drove you to do… whatever it is that got you into this mess. You’re shaking all over, staring at Connor with wide unblinking eyes.  
“It’s alright, but I can’t help you if you won’t tell me anything.”

[CONFLICTING ORDERS]

 

[...Selecting priority…]


End file.
